Be
by FieldOfFlowers
Summary: - Living for them was difficult enough . . . but how about living for yourself . . .


"Be"  
  
by FieldOfFlowers  
  
Note: Hi everyone. This is my first story since the 'nsync stuff was canned . . . so tell me what you think about my first "Center Stage" fic. It's a song fic, and I didn't toil for days like I usually do . . . so this may suck more than the others, but I might as well give it a shot right? So tell me what you think . . .  
  
  
  
I'm tired of being, I just want to be  
  
Thinking of you thinking of me.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I want more 'float' . . . elephants don't do ballet" She'd been listening to him all  
  
through rehearsal, rehearsals, it had been going on for weeks . . . and her wall was  
  
starting to crumble. So far she had been able to smile and nod at the corrective shots  
  
taken by the director, but by the end of practice . . . yeah.  
  
  
  
  
  
I like what I see, when the mirror shines back  
  
  
  
  
  
She stared into her own eyes, a swirling blue-grey-green of turmoil as she ran her hands  
  
over her chest, stomach, hips, trying to understand what the problem was. 'Just a layer of  
  
fat for the winter' . . . so she wasn't a twig, she still needed food. It is necessary for  
  
survival. 'Johnathan HATES big' She just wanted to dance for him . . . that's all.  
  
  
  
  
  
How come you're looking for all that I lack?  
  
  
  
  
  
"Emily, Johnathan wants to have word with you after class." The secretary left for  
  
the front desk with a smug, ominous chirp. She knew it was her hips, or was it her chest?  
  
Maybe it was her stomach . . .  
  
"EMILY! Pay attention. You missed your group for the jetes. Maybe if you stop  
  
thinking about your next meal your performance will improve a little heh?" Maybe it was  
  
all of her.  
  
  
  
  
  
How can I be a feather, when you've turned me to lead  
  
They're just words but they're more once they get in my head.  
  
  
  
  
  
'Her pas de deux partner will need a crane to lift her' Her mind wandered as she waited  
  
for the director to enter his office. Minutes later he had settled into his desk chair and met  
  
Emily's crystalline confusion with nothing but crass criticism.  
  
"Emily, when you entered ABA, you were one of the prime dancers in your  
  
class..." were "Yet, you've taken no pride in yourself, your body or your craft, in the past  
  
semester." no pride "You were beautiful, but your little green eyes can't save you now.  
  
You are overweight and unattractive, and that type of dancer is not what we need for our  
  
company." we don't want you . . .  
  
  
  
  
  
I liked what I saw when the mirror shone back,  
  
  
  
  
  
"We'd like you to reconsider dancing here if you cannot lose at least twenty  
  
pounds by the time you need to be on stage . . . and truly consider this . . . if ABA doesn't  
  
want you, no other company will either." He stood and left the room. The wall crumbled.  
  
  
  
  
  
Now you've got me looking at all that I lack.  
  
  
  
  
  
"I want to come home . . ." Were the only words she could find before she hung  
  
up the phone. Her mother knew her well enough to come see her anyway. She was so  
  
embarrassed. Had she truly let herself go that far? She couldn't see it. But somehow that  
  
made it worse.  
  
  
  
  
  
I can't find the faults that you seem to see,  
  
  
  
  
  
It was worse because everyone knew she was big, ugly, worthless, and now crushed . . .  
  
but they also saw that she was a fool, and was blind to it the entire time. She couldn't  
  
even stop herself.  
  
  
  
Her mother had made it to her dorm by late that afternoon and she tried to quietly make  
  
her way out of the building before being seen by her 'friends'. 'a layer of fat for the  
  
winter' ... ' need a crane to lift her' Her mother had told her she was beautiful, that she  
  
was worth more than just a dress size . . . but somehow it didn't hit home. Her stomach  
  
turned as she saw three girls rushing down the steps of the dormitory.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Why are you leaving?"  
  
"What did he say to you?"  
  
  
  
  
  
I'm tired of being for you, it's time to be for me.  
  
  
  
  
  
As she stepped into the taxi, her mother's hand on her shoulder, she looked at the girls . .  
  
. a concerned 'friend' masking the rabid fears about her own body, emaciation already  
  
taking its toll . . . a sagging spirit losing someone who might have understood her  
  
insecurities of inadequacy . . . and one full of disgust, the only thing left fueling her fire.  
  
And she knew. She knew that leaving this behind, the pressure, the expectations, the  
  
girding standards of her worn, fellow dancers . . . she would be okay; she would be better.  
  
She would be.  
  
  
  
Note: So what did you guys think? I feel like the topic is really close to me, so I don't know . . . yeah. 


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